


Appetizer

by nasticon



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/F, Humiliation, Non Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:26:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasticon/pseuds/nasticon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have a task for you.”</p>
<p>With a flick of the wrist Airachnid lets her web loose. Arcee throws up her defense, but alarm gives way to surprise when the load flies past her with a good four wheel-widths to go, hitting the ground to her side.</p>
<p>“I seem to have spilled. Clean that up.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appetizer

Airachnid tightens her grip, leaving the human no more room to squirm. The woman makes a strangled sound, a thin, pathetic whimper that succumbs to breathless silence without ever forming words. Fear is coursing through her, a constant tremble against the sensors.     
  
The woods around them are ragged and torn from the fight. Shattered trunks and scorched rock, deep wounds cut into the soil. With scratches on the chrome and dirt in her joints, Arcee looks just perfect.   
  
“Let June go!” she shouts, as always a wonder of originality and wit.   
  
“I don’t think I will.”   
  
Arcee molds her right hand into something more suited for long range occasions, and takes aim. She always did transform beautifully, seamlessly. No chafing, no hitches, not one molecule out of place. Makes you want to take her apart to truly appreciate it.   
  
“Go ahead.” Airachnid extends her arm as long as it reaches, thrusts the human towards the deadly glow of Arcee’s cannon. “We’ll catch it.”   
  
She locks their gazes and smiles at the desperation she finds there, because Arcee always bends in the face of loss, no matter how insignificant on a larger scale. She bends and she bends. One day she  will  break.   
  
“If you want a fight, you’ve got one.” She has lowered her cannon, but Arcee is still taking a battle stance. “Put her down and I’m all yours.”   
  
“Don’t worry about me!” Somehow, the human has found her voice again. “Run!”   
  
Her soft little face is pale and strained, but her eyes are burning as if she thought she might actually wield any power in this situation. What can you do but roll your optics?   
  
“Don’t you lot ever get tired of noble sacrifices?” Airachnid says. “It was entertaining at first, but keep it up and it’s going to lose its charm.”   
  
Arcee ignores her, quite rudely, addressing the human.   
  
“I’m not leaving. As long as I’m here, she has an incentive to keep you alive. I won’t let her kill you.”   
  
“Kill? I never said anything about killing  her .”   
  
That does get Arcee’s attention.   
  
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever squished one of these little fleshbugs? Since I assume you aren’t planning to, either, I won’t feel bad about ruining the surprise: they bleed. A lot. And human blood coagulates into this awful crust.” Airachnid purses her lips in distaste. “Very nasty.”   
  
Arcee says nothing, but she shifts her weight almost imperceptibly. She waits, taut and ready. The strike is coming. Any time now.    
  
The beauty in engaging Arcee is that you never know where her hits will land. She’s unpredictable, constantly adapting to the flow of the fight, moving fast and thinking faster. If there’s an opening, she will find it. Aided by her size and speed, not weighed down by any more parts than the absolute minimum, she never stays pinned for long. In battle she’s a mystery, a riddle with an ever changing answer.   
  
Outside of battle she’s a far simpler equation.   
  
She’s circling now, one careful step at a time, and Airachnid circles with, facing her, minding her footing.   
  
“Why so grim?” Airachnid asks. “I just gave you some good news.”   
  
“You can’t seriously believe I’d buy your lies.”   
  
“Since when am I in the habit of lying to you? I may ruin your life, but I do it honestly.”   
  
“Then you have no reason to want June. So  let her go .”   
  
Airachnid shrugs.                
  
“You’re right. On second thought, I don’t want this.” She raises her arm, swings it in an arch above her head. “I might as well throw it away.”   
  
The human screams then, and Arcee, too, breaking her stance as panic comes crashing down on her. Airachnid stops mid-movement.   
  
“No?”   
  
Arcee is thrumming with rage, her signature reads as a frenzied, crackling blur. One must admire her composure. To keep all that contained and stay tactical, shutting down impulses that are roaring to be acted upon, is a real feat.   
  
She hunches down a bit, as if getting ready to pounce, and Airachnid backs up a few feet, shaking her head.   
  
“Not advisable. My fingers might… twitch.”   
  
“What’s your game, Airachnid?” Arcee says, and her voice is loud.   
  
“I have a task for you.”   
  
With a flick of the wrist Airachnid lets her web loose. Arcee throws up her defense, but alarm gives way to surprise when the load flies past her with a good four wheel-widths to go, hitting the ground to her side.   
  
“I seem to have spilled. Clean that up.”   
  
The webbing is a white pool in the moss, glistening wetly in the faint sunlight, still fresh and moist. The confusion on Arcee’s face becomes her.   
  
“You’re joking.”   
  
“You think? Autobots really have no humor.”   
  
“Then it’s a trap.”   
  
“Of course it is,” Arachnid says. “One it took little coaxing to lure you into. Almost as if you  wanted it.”   
  
She sits back on her hindmost pairs of legs, settling in, cocking her hips in a gesture of casual mockery.   
  
“Lose your dignity or lose your newest partner – or is it pet? Either way, your choice.”   
  
Never looking away from Airachnid, Arcee inches over to the web-puddle, slowly crouching down to take some into her cupped hand. She hesitates before touching it, unwilling. Airachnid scoffs.   
  
“Not like that. Use your mouth.”   
  
Arcee gapes. It’s adorable. Arachnid loves her in shock, it’s a good look on her.   
  
“Go on then. The longer you wait, the tougher it gets. It isn’t half as fun if it´s too stiff to go all the way down.”   
  
“You’re getting off on this, you-”   
  
“Yes, yes. Sick and twisted monster, et cetera. But as long as I’m getting off, the human’s head doesn’t.“ Airachnid smiles. “Unless I get bored.”   
  
There are many ways in which Arcee can be enjoyed. Her versitude is her true appeal. She can be a mask of steely bravery, a wall against which to measure your strength. She can be a storm of violent anger, demanding full attention lest it sweeps you away. She can be a bridge straining under the burden of pain, refusing to crumble beneath you. She can be all those things and more, but she has never been more beautiful than now, as she trembles to her knees, forcing her body to move against instinct. In defeat she is magnificent, the curve of her back as she goes down on her hands a graph of perfection.   
  
Her fingers dig into the soil. Her lips part. She puts them to the webbing and she sucks it up.   
  
The involuntary shudder that rakes through her almost knocks her off balance. All her warning systems are going off at once, Airachnid knows it, yelling at her to get rid of the offending substance and purge herself of contamination.   
  
Forever stubborn Arceee powers through. Forever foolish Arcee scoops up another mouthful. It refuses to be divided into bites, stretching into threads instead. She has to cut them, and even then they take their time to swallow, loose ends dangling from her chin. They cling to her cheeks, stick to her chest, glue themselves to the metal wherever they get the chance. The machinery in her throat struggles to force them down, constantly under the threat of clogging. She’s going to feel it for days, sticking to her insides, and it will remind her of this, of lying on her knees with her neck exposed, of how far she bent this time.   
  
An autobot is a creature of plight, it protects and serves, and even when it tears her pride to shreds Arcee does her duty. Arcee finishes down to the very last ounce, and when she looks up her face is slathered with disgust and shame and a gorgeous fury.   
  
“There,” she says, getting to her feet. “You got your show. Now I get my friend.”   
  
Airachnid doesn’t answer. She flicks her wrist and covers the earth before her in sticky white.   
  
“Oh, Arcee,” she says. “That was just the appetizer.”


End file.
